


drive me into the black hole

by cesellia



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Eating Disorders, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Incest, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm, i love akechi therefore he must suffer, shuake implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesellia/pseuds/cesellia
Summary: love was the fatal shot to the head, and hatred was the kissing of the skull upon the bullet's impact.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	drive me into the black hole

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from soap&skin's the sun

Pain seared through his chest—blood dripping from quivering lips as the shadow removed its spear from his abdomen, muttering disappointments as it walked away from Akechi, leaving him to spit out his own blood and struggle to get himself back on to his feet.

Looming over him was Loki, chuckling with sadistic satisfaction as it offered no help to its user's self-mutilated wounds that littered his body. And that was how Akechi preferred it, he would rather have his persona watch and mock his suffering than have it try to nurse the wounds like Robin Hood used to do.

This was right. This was _freedom._

With every broken bone, every spell cast upon him, Akechi could yell out in relief that this was _his_ choice, that no one but himself brought him this far into Mementos—destroying his body until his eyes could only see red and his legs no longer followed his commands. This was autonomy in its truest, most delicate form. And it was all that Akechi craved.

No. There was something else that he wanted—something soft and tender, something that had the strength to break him free of the chains that he had put on himself, but to fall victim to such a desire would be blasphemy of the highest order, and Akechi vowed to tear the skin off of his body before he would let himself succumb.

(And he has. He has shredded his skin in Mementos countless times and return every night to find clean, unscathed skin in need of falling on to the bloodied concrete grounds.)

The screen of his phone flickered on, and Akechi knew it was time to retreat back to the real world before he would end up blacked out on the ground and be found hours later by a Phantom Thief and have to bring his last bit of control to a pitiful end.

Clutching his gaping wound that stained blood on to his gloves, Akechi faltered to Mementos' exit.

Cold wooden tiles welcomed Akechi back to his apartment as he collapsed on the floor upon reentry to reality—the low rumbling of the space heater deafening in combination with the spotted darkening of his vision.

Hunger swelled inside of him to serve as the grim reminder that there would come a point where food would have to pass through his lips again (not now, certainly not now—eating was sparse, and the food that remained in his fridge had grown rotten and inedible), but when that time comes he would have already found refuge on the bathroom floor that very little food could be eaten before he became overwhelmed with sickness.

But through all the deception and dissimulation, it would be a misconception to think that anything he was doing was by any means _safe_.

Bones penetrated from the body with unflattery (serving as an inconvenience in the metaverse, coming out every time with broken ribs and less energy than what he had coming in) and scales dipped into numbers that doctors would see as a concern, but that hadn't mattered in years. The body was now a tomb that had laid empty ever since strong arms grasped his shoulders and a gravelled voice saying _come with me_ with toxicity so great that he couldn't pass the man up.

Akechi's stomach churned in dismay of that memory of that man placing his hands on his body (it wasn't the first and it certainly wasn't going to be the last time it happened), and he forced himself off the tiled floor and reached for his buzzing phone to read the text messages waiting for him.

**Akira** : _no customers at leblanc today..._

**Akira** : _boss will close early if the sky gets any darker before noon_

Akechi thumbed at his coat pocket as he typed back a hasty response.

**Akechi** : _a shame that leblanc isn't on any main streets, the cafe would have quite a lot of business_

**Akechi** : _mind if i stop by for a coffee? long shifts have left me to have little proper rest_

It was already raining heavily when Akechi arrived at Yongen-Jaya, rhythmic raindrops dancing in the sky before crashing down into huge puddles of water on the concrete.

Thoughtlessly, Akechi forgot to bring an umbrella for this case scenario, and it was evident from the disheveled, soaked appearance of his hair that stuck uncomfortably against his skin like a child using gel as conditioner.

Using the glow of street lamps and vending machines, he navigated through the heavy rainfall to Leblanc—twisting the excess water from his coat as he let himself inside.

Behind the counter and facing away from him was Akira, wearing an apron that sat loosely around his waist while his body worked like clockwork to perfect the coffee he had requested (black coffee to be precise, the taste was bitter and left a foul flavour in his mouth that left his appetite diminished).

Akira turned to face Akechi, his black eyes brightening up as he called him over to sit across from him. “Didn't beat the rain, I see?” Akira smiled and poured the coffee into a pristine beige cup, “They might be a tad big on you, but I have some fresh clothes you can borrow for today. You look like you're about to freeze to death in that.”

“I admit I do feel rather cold,” Akechi started, pausing to take a sip of the coffee prepared for him ( _Made with love and care_ , he recalled him saying the first time he made him a cup), “And it would be nice to change into something dry so I do not fall ill during my interview today. Thank you, Akira, your consideration for others is remarkable as ever.”

Akira hummed and retreated momentarily upstairs to grab clothing that most closely resembled Akechi's preferred style. “It's a few sizes bigger than yours, but it'll work,” he said and handed the clothes to him, “You can place what you're wearing right now in the clothing bin, I'll drop them by the dryers after the storm and return them to you tomorrow during the meeting.”

“The meeting?” Akechi asked, holding out the button-up shirt to see how he could make it appear more his size so viewers wouldn't misinterpret as him gaining weight (a fear that he often experienced as the media was quick to point out the slightest hints of fuller cheeks. It was a fear that almost dominated the dread of being pulled aside again by Shido for him to smile and whisper to him in his ear, ‘ _you've gained weight_ ’).

“We agreed that we would go to the palace tomorrow after school, remember?” Akira responded, his head tilting to the side as he added on, “Is something wrong? You look like you've lost your edge over something.”

“No, nothing is the matter,” Akechi said rather hastily, “But I am afraid I will have to cut my visit short today. Shinjuku is a harsh trip in this weather, so it is best that I change now and leave before I end up late to the interview. Thank you again. I will see you tomorrow at the meeting, Akira.”

The weather did not let up as night fell—lightning rippled in the sky and cars below were muted by the loud roars of thunder coming from above.

Rain used to be the one thing that would ease the insomnia that kept Akechi up past four in the morning, but now it served no point when every passing moon marks the drawing near of the day he would have to press the gun against Akira's head and pull the trigger. And Akechi didn't want to do it, but he was going to.

Shido's love and approval demanded a sacrifice of something which he loved, and that love was given to him by the only person to see past what the cameras and news reports saw and still accept him through all the sharp edges and fatalities he was made out of.

And like the phantom thieves, after the damage has been done, his corpse would be left mouldering in a hidden spot of the city. Found first by the rodents then a poor passerby, his death would go unannounced to the public—no funeral would be held, no tears to be shed, the name Goro Akechi to be forgotten by all the moment his heart ceases to beat.

There was no happy ending to be had. Shido assured that the night he took him and made him his personal, well-crafted weapon that listened to his every command. He was the weapon to be discarded after the primary task has been completed and had no other uses.

His phone buzzed, and Akechi reached across to the nightstand to grab it and read what has been sent.

**Shido** : _Status report._

He stared at the bright screen for longer than he should. What was he supposed to say? That he had tasted more blood this month than food? That he understands now what death row prisoners feel like on their last day? That he wonders how life could have turned out for him if he had been able to save his mother? Was there an ending waiting for him where everything turned out all right? Did it matter either way?

Akechi didn't answer and instead took a handful of sleeping pills and let unconsciousness take control of him.

“You look faint today. Did you sleep well last night?” Haru asked that next day at Leblanc.

“Truthfully, I have never been able to sleep well during thunderstorms,” Akechi answered like one would on a test, careful to not choose the answer that would tip off the thieves, “But I will make sure I remain to be useful to all of you.”

He added in a soft, ingenuine smile to ease the concerned expressions off their faces, all except for Akira’s, who eyed him suspiciously but never said a single word that would suggest something was wrong. The other thieves, however, were less subtle about hiding it.

“ _Doesn't he look a bit...”_

_“Shouldn't we be concerned?”_

_“He's got a tough job. Stress probably just finally caught up to him.”_

None of what they said affected him. All of their assumptions about him would be wrong (they always were), and it would take more than a couple of dark eye circles and a hollowed face for them to figure out something even remotely close to the truth.

When the time for infiltration began, the earth began to shift and the colours of red blinded their vision until reality dissolved and they stood in front of the looming and kaleidoscopic casino. Loud music echoed through the metaverse and lights dancing erratically in the sky; it was enough to nauseate Akechi every time he gazed up at the bright bold letters that read _CASINO_ on the building.

“Crow, you'll come with me,” Akira said, bringing Akechi back to reality and realising that the thieves had been speaking that whole entire time he swayed back and forth in a slowly growing delirium, “Skull, Queen, you come as well. Everyone else, stay behind. We have better chances of going unnoticed if we are in small numbers.”

‘ _He's playing it safe_ ,’ Akechi thought as he walked alongside Akira, not minding the unsteadiness of his legs that he knew would prove to be a problem in the occasion they are left to run.

Then it occurred to him that this might have been Akira's way of keeping him safe, even while putting him through danger in the palace—it was a better option than leaving him with the people most ill-equipped for the situation where his body finally collapses on itself. And if anyone was to know something was growing increasingly wrong, it would certainly be Akira.

“Hey, dude, are you even listening to what I've been saying?” Ryuji asked, waving his hand in front of his face, “Never seen you this spaced out before. Forgot to take your caffeine pills this morning, huh?”

“My apologies, Skull,” he began, straightening his posture when he realised that Akira (who quickly darted his eyes away once they met) had been watching him this whole time, “To tell the truth, this has been a rather tiring week, but I promise I will not slow you down.”

“Yeah, yeah, you slowing us down ain’t what's gotten me worried,” Ryuji scratched the back of his head, “I wasn't really plannin' on bringing this up or anything, but have you lost weight? Could've sworn those clothes you're wearing used to fit better.”

It took all of Akechi's strength to not stop there in his tracks. _Worried_. He could spend the next twenty-four hours trying to decipher what that meant and still come up with no answer.

Gulping down that mystery and putting on a face, he replied, “It is certainly possible. A high schooler with a schedule like my own will surely have a few meals pass by unnoticed. But I assure you that it is nothing that will become a problem later on for you.”

There was little time for Ryuji to express how that _wasn't_ the concern he was having as the ground below them shook with the manifestation of three gorific shadows that blocked their path.

“Dirty, impudent little pests,” Akechi spun his saber up (‘ _has it always been this heavy?_ ’), “This will be an easy defeat. Are you ready, Joker?”

Akira nodded, and the four of them charged through the shadows, their personas supporting them from above as the opposing forces' attacks became more critical.

With the excitement of the battle, Akechi failed to register the pain of the gaping hole that had been punctured into his stomach. It was interesting, no doubt, how the blood spilling out of him seemed less dangerous and more tranquilising than how it would be in Mementos.

There, seeing the bone shine through the dark clumps of blood would certainly mean death would try to claim him. But here, in the distorted, cognitive reality, he could reach in through the wound and let his hands rest upon the ribcage that was beginning to show naturally already before ripping it out of himself and holding it in his lap.

_Not now, boy_ , Robin Hood's voice echoed from inside him, _This is not the place to be making rash decisions._

Lights of healing powers laced around the injured areas until the wounds closed up. _I didn't tell you to do that_ , Akechi thought about spitting at the persona, before joining the others to help land the final blow on the attackers.

With the fall of the enemy and the reapings of their rewards, the Phantom Thieves pressed forward in search of the palace's treasure, and the further they went and the more they fought, the excess energy he was running on drained out.

It would not have come to a surprise to him if he were to collapse—or pass out even—on the dirtied concrete ground if it had not been for Akira and his keen sense for the members' health saying, “We've been out here for a while. Let's leave and return at a later date.”

The thieves all said their goodbyes before parting ways to their own destinations, leaving only two to remain at Leblanc.

“You did well today,” Akechi complimented when Akira sat in the booth across from him, “Your leadership skills never fail to impress me. They are lucky to have you on their team.”

“It's a group effort,” Akira replied, “If I didn't have them, I would never have gotten this far. I'm sure you can understand how that feels.”

“Even so, they need you. The Phantom Thieves would be lost without their dependable leader,” Akechi said, straightening his posture and never once breaking eye contact, “But it seems to me that they take more than they give. They have you solve their problems and yet they are never there for you when you need help. Does that not bother you?”

“I didn't befriend them in hopes that they will give just as much as they take. Knowing that their sufferings are eased is enough to satisfy me.” said Akira.

The sun began to set and it was time for Akechi to leave, and he prayed that he wouldn't end up passing out on the subway while on the ride to his apartment.

“Oh, and hey,” Akira called out to get his attention, smiling stupidly to show his gummy cheeks, “Make sure to eat something, okay?”

“I haven't seen you this skinny since you first came to me,” Shido mused aloud, taking Akechi's arm and trailing his touch down to his glove, pulling it off, and adding on, “Did you inflict these burns on yourself?”

“They are hardly important to my mission.” Akechi deadpanned as every scar and every bone that poked out unnaturally was touched by callous hands that saw him as nothing more but a manipulated doll that could be tossed around.

If he was fifteen, Akechi would have tried to run away from him, punch, kick him, he would have done anything to get away from him. But he was older now, and he knew that to reach the goals that he was determined to achieve, he would have to let Shido and his impurities do as he pleases.

“About the mission,” Shido trailed his hands off of him, “Are we almost set? I have given you more than enough time, surely you have made progressions in the plan to kill the leader.”

A lump formed in his throat that made his voice more quiet and submissive than he had anticipated, “One more week. One more week and you will have the Phantom Thieves' heads on a platter.”

“Good boy,” Shido grinned before standing up to leave, “When that day comes, you will have my full gratitude.”

The door echoed when he left, stressing the doorframe that kept it holding together.

_One more week._

Akechi turned away from the door and towards the busy street below his apartment.

One more week and it would all be over. He would have to watch as disbelief and betrayal twinkled in Akira's eyes before the bullet pierces through his skull.

And then Shido would die unexpectedly. The leading newspaper article of that day would read _Future Prime Minister Dies Mysteriously—Were The Phantom Thieves Actually Behind The Mental Shutdowns?_

Then a body would be found—half-eaten by rodents and bugs—by an elderly lady walking her dogs. The police determine the body to belong to Goro Akechi, but his death never hits the newspaper, and the detective prince will be forgotten by all who once knew him.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/lyilenor) and [tumblr](https://lyilenor.tumblr.com/)


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